


Year One

by sopebar8D



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopebar8D/pseuds/sopebar8D
Summary: Home is made up of the people around you. A series of vignettes on Minghao's first year at college.





	1. September

Only mid-September, yet evening was already falling into sub- 4-degree Celsius weather. _Thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit_ , Minghao reminded himself. Americans use Fahrenheit, even though no one else in the world does.

His phone buzzed. The blue glow from his iPhone was jarring, but Hao didn’t mind it. Dance practice finished especially late tonight, and while he had gotten used to the shortcut through the cemetery to his dorm, it was still comforting to have some light on moonless nights like these. Not that he was afraid of the walk; Minghao was used to the solitude.

_You should have let me walk you home tonight! See you tomorrow! Let’s get dinner before practice!_

_I’m sry_  
_I should have taken_  
_Ur choreography idea_  
_More seriously_  
_C u_  
_Tomorrow_  
_Pls don’t_  
_Be mad at me_  
_Hahaha  
_ _Rly tho_

He sighed, silver clouds exhaling and disappearing into the Vermont night air. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Jun or Soonyoung or any of the other dance team members; he just wished he didn’t seem to spend most of his waking hours with the same three people. But English was still awkward, and while he liked how dance didn’t require so much language for self-expression, he missed easy conversation. Plus, his writing tutor Jeonghan always nagged that he would only improve by speaking more. But nobody expects a first-year Chinese international student to provide a dazzling or witty banter.

Minghao shoved his phone in his back pocket and tried not to think about home. _You love America_ , he told himself. _The East Coast is such a great adventure and tomorrow you’ll show Soonyoung that back flip and –_

“Hello?”

Minghao stopped, wary. The cemetery was public grounds, and town locals didn’t love international students. Half his brain cycled through years of martial arts training while the other half told him to calm down and act normally.

The sound of leaves crunching underfoot drew near. “Hello…? I thought I heard – oh, hi.”

Minghao sighed, relieved. The voiced belonged to a skinny Asian boy in a frumpy sweatshirt and a backwards baseball hat, not a menacing local. “Hello,” Hao acknowledged.

“S-sorry to scare you, man. I was just surprised because I didn’t think anyone else walked here at night. I’m heading back to the dorms from the music building… you’re a student too, right?”

 _American-born_ , Minghao noted. That dammed perfect English. “Yes… I am going to the dorms too. From the dance building,” he said carefully.

“Oh, dance. Cool, bro,” the American boy said. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“No, that’s okay. You didn’t scare me.” Minghao put his hands in his pockets and continued walking. It was too cold to stand still, and his Uniqlo bubble jacket did nothing to keep out the windchill.

The American boy walked next to him. “So, how come you’re walking back so late? I walk here all the time and I didn’t think anyone else knew this shortcut.”

Minghao thought about the words before making his sentence; Jeonghan said that might help him speak more confidently. “Our dance practice goes very late today, so I am walking home late. Usually, not this late.”

“No wonder I never see you,” the boy said. “It’s like after 10 PM! My music practice usually gets out around now. What, uh, kind of dance do you do?”

“At school, I do contemporary dance. But, at home, b-boy.”

The American boy stopped in his tracks, so Minghao also stopped out of politeness, although he wished he wouldn’t because his hands were starting to hurt from the cold. “B-boy? That’s amazing! I wish I could do that, but I only know one trick – look –“ The boy grinned and pindropped onto the leaf-covered cemetery floor.

Minghao smiled. “Wow, not bad!” He hoped that didn’t sound sarcastic. There was no concept of sarcasm in Chinese culture, but Jeonghan said that sometimes in English, you mean the opposite of what you say, and it might cause misunderstandings. He didn’t find the pindrop very exceptional, but he didn’t want the boy to know that.

“I know you didn’t mean that. It’s not very good,” the boy laughed sheepishly as they continued walking. “I’m like, not really a dancer, I guess. Music and singing is more of my thing. I’m a music major,” the boy explained.

“I love music! Do – do you play any instruments?”

The boy laughed. “I hoped you would ask! I play guitar. I’ve played it since I was a kid when my mom gave me my guitar, and I’d really like to learn drums and other instruments too. But guitar is definitely my thing. I also sing, but I don’t know if I’m any good at it.”

“I think you would have a beautiful singing voice,” Minghao replied honestly. “Your mom… is in America too?” Hopefully that made sense.

“My mom… she’s in America, yeah.” The boy paused, and Minghao wondered if he had said something wrong. Maybe he had a bad relationship with his mom and didn’t want to talk about it, and it was rude to ask, or made the boy feel bad, or – “She’s in California, which is where I’m from. But it’s so far away that it feels like a different country.”

“My mom is far away too. In China. But California is also very far away,” Minghao added quickly. He didn’t want the boy to think that he was trying to outcompete him in who was more foreign to the East Coast. “Vermont is… very different. California and China are like different countries from here.”

“Right, man?” The boy exclaimed. “See, you get it. So many people don’t believe me but California is like a totally different country from the East Coast. The culture shock is, like, so real.”

Minghao nodded, and the two continued walking in silence save for the soft sounds of their breathing and footsteps. The warm light of the dorms came into view, and Minghao gestured towards Stewart Hall. “Here is my dorm.”

“Oh, you must be a freshman! I live in LaForce. Hey, I never introduced myself,” He extended his hand. “I’m Joshua.”

Hao shook the boy’s hand; it was extraordinarily large and strangely comforting. “I’m Minghao.”

“Nice to meet you, Minghao,” Joshua grinned. In the dim light, Minghao could see the corners of his mouth curve upwards, catlike. “Hey, man, if you’re going to go the same way tomorrow, wanna get dinner together? Like 5, 6 PM or something? If you’re free that is.”

Minghao smiled, and despite the fall air, his face felt warm. “Yes, I am free. I would like to get dinner with you.”

“Great, man. Now I don’t have to walk by myself. By the way, what’s your number?” Joshua handed his phone to Minghao, who punched in his number and returned it. “See you tomorrow, Minghao.” He turned around and walked into the evening.

“See you tomorrow, Joshua.” He waved, although Joshua surely couldn’t see him.

Tomorrow morning at tutoring hours he would tell Jeonghan about his long English conversation. He would ask Jeonghan to help him prepare what to chat about over dinner.

Despite Mingyu’s snoring, Minghao slept soundly that night. That is, until he woke up suddenly at 2 AM remembering to text Jun back. _Sorry, I can’t get dinner with you tomorrow. See you at dance practice though._

Jun messaged him back immediately. _AWEJFILJIDSJFLID DO YOU HAVE A DATE?_

Minghao smiled, falling back asleep. Mingyu’s snoring gently drowned out the continued buzzing of his phone. 


	2. October

Leaves crunched underfoot. Minghao dug his gloved hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. It was mid-day, and the sun cast gentle sepia tones through the sky over leaves blazing crimson.  Autumn in New England was postcard-worthy, but it was also cold. He shivered, watching his breath spiral and dissipate quickly in the crisp air.

He was seven minutes early, but still impatient with excitement. Groups of students milled around him, enthusiastically showing off their dorms and dining halls to their parents. He waved to Seungkwan, who was passing by with his older sisters and mother.

“Hey, Minghao! Wanna come join us? We’re heading over to the football game!” Seungkwan shouted, waving back.

Minghao smiled. “No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Don’t wait too long!” Seungkwan called as he continued walking with his family.

Joshua had introduced them soon after they had started getting dinner together every Tuesday and Thursday. Minghao liked Seungkwan a lot – he was easy to talk to and was always able to get everyone to join along with conversation easily, even though Minghao was wary of strangers – although he couldn’t help but envy Seungkwan’s ease in seemingly all social situations.

“Hey, man,” Joshua greeted as he walked up to the picnic table where Minghao sat waiting. “I thought I was going to be early. Didn’t mean to be late.”

“You’re not late,” Minghao replied, ignoring the nervous happiness bubbling from his stomach. “I was early.”

“Right, but it’s not gentlemanly to make people wait,” Joshua grinned. “Come on, let’s go.”

They walked together through brilliant foliage. Joshua absent-mindedly picked a tiny leaf out of Minghao’s hair. “So wait,” he said. “You’ve never gone to any of these fall celebrations before?”

“We didn’t have these traditions in China,” Minghao replied simply.

Joshua shrugged. “We don’t have these traditions in a bunch of the United States, either.”

Minghao looked up. “No?”

“Nah, son,” Joshua said, amused. “At least not in California, because we don’t really have seasons at home. The weather’s just okay in the winter and then disgustingly hot in the summer. But fall celebrations like this are a huge deal for white people in New England.”

“You sound like you don’t like it.”

“I don’t hate these things,” Joshua said. “But it kind of sucks celebrating on your own while everyone else gets to have their family visit them, you know?”

Minghao didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. They reached the giant grass field that sprawled through the middle of the campus, the lawn set up with pumpkin-carving stations, apple cider booths, tables laden with snacks, and other festive offerings. He started to approach a table where a short girl in Carhartt overalls guided students in making their own candy apples but stopped when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“This way,” Joshua pointed his head in the direction of a booth labelled CHECK IN. “We have to show school ID and get wristbands. Student government rules –“

“Joshuaaaaaa,” drawled Jeonghan from the booth. “Corrupting the youth, I see.”

“I’m not you,” Joshua returned lightly as he and Minghao walked up to the table. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Minghao,” Jeonghan smiled warmly. “This is your first Fall Family Weekend, right? So sorry you decided to spend it with this fool.” He nodded towards Joshua.

“Your first Fall Family Weekend?” A boy with soot-dark lashes and a gummy smile turned around from behind Jeonghan, where he had been stacking boxes of fruit pies. “Hi, I’m Seungcheol, your student body president. And what was your name again?” He extended his arm across both Jeonghan and the table. “I hope you enjoy yourself today!”

“I’m Minghao,” Minghao replied, shaking his hand. “Wow, student body president. Did you do all of this?”

“Don’t flatter him, Hao,” Jeonghan chided kindly. “All he did was throw out frivolous ideas while Wonwoo and I did all the work. Anyways,” he sighed, wrapping a neon orange wristband around Minghao’s hand, “Go have fun, okay? Joshua, be good to him. And feed him, please.”

“Go back to work,” Joshua said, equally mirthful. He turned to Hao. “You were looking at candy apples, right? Let’s get away from these nerds.”

They made their way back towards the candy apple booth, Minghao following timidly behind Joshua. The girl in overalls, who introduced herself as Wheein, handed them each a glossy Granny Smith apple on a wooden dowel and waved them toward a smorgasbord of toppings.

“So, Minghao,” Joshua started, smearing caramel topping over the face of his apple. “Have you ever had a candy apple?”

Minghao looked up from the chocolate spread that he had been struggling to get to adhere on his apple. “No, never,” he said. “Are they good?”

“Honestly, not really.” Joshua paused to focus on the crevices where the apple met the stick. “But most of the fun is in the making, you know? It’s about the experience, not the end product.”

Minghao didn’t reply, zoned in on the chocolate spread that refused to stick tidily to the apple the way Joshua’s caramel topping had nicely glazed over his. “This is harder than it looks.” He bit his lip, mildly frustrated. “It looked so easy, like for children.”

Joshua placed his apple aside on a plate and clasped his hands on top of Minghao’s. “You need a lighter touch,” he explained, gently guiding the younger boy’s hand as they dragged the chocolate spread over the surface of the apple. “Your spoon shouldn’t come into contact with the apple itself. It should only touch the chocolate, and that helps it to cling to the apple.”

Joshua’s hands were warm and heavy – and huge, as Minghao had noted time and again. He felt his own bony fingers rising from freezing back to a normal body temperature as the older boy’s hands closed over his and helped him coat the rest of the apple. Not that his attention was on the apple. Joshua was standing so close that if he just leaned forward a bit –    

“See? Not so hard once you get the hang of it,” Joshua stepped back, releasing Minghao’s hands and looking impressed at the apple. “Now we just have to put decorations on it.”

Minghao stared at him, suddenly aware again of all the commotion around them. He tried to will himself to say thank you like a normal person but found himself speechless, partly due to the palpitations he was currently experiencing. His ears were hot, and he was sure they were turning a violent red.

“Also, uh,” Joshua continued awkwardly, his eyes darting around briefly. “Your hands are real cold, man. Maybe Jeonghan was right. You should eat something.”

“They are warmer now.” Minghao pretended to focus on twirling his apple. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Joshua exhaled, sounding relieved. “But yeah, food? Pie?”

 

- 

 

“I had a lot of fun today,” Joshua said.

Minghao nodded in agreement. The day had been perfect – thoughts of work or rehearsal didn’t cross his mind for a single second all afternoon. Instead, he had tried four different types of pie; pumpkin wasn’t worth the hype that Americans gave it, but chocolate pecan definitely needed to go global. Joshua had helped him carve his first pumpkin, which Jeonghan had lavishly praised as an Art Nouveau masterpiece. They had spent the hour prior to dinner huddled together on the bleachers, battling the fierce winds and pretending to enjoy the football game next to a screaming Seungkwan who alternated between frenzied encouragement and pseudo-insults at Mingyu and Chan, who was finally off the bench and on the field for once. As usual, Seungkwan’s vocal excitement translated to physical acrobatics as he jumped up and down on the bleachers. This greatly annoyed Hyunah and Hyojung seated behind them and increasingly pushed Minghao further away until he had practically been sitting in Joshua’s lap.

“I had a lot of fun today, too. Thanks to you.”

“No problem,” Joshua replied. “Not gonna lie, bro, this was my best Fall Family Weekend yet. It almost,” he smiled, and Minghao nearly missed it in the shadows of sunset. “Almost felt like I actually had family here.”

Minghao felt his ears heat up again and was grateful that Joshua wouldn’t be able to see him blushing. “I wish the weekend wouldn’t end.”

“Hey, uh – why don’t we do something like this next weekend?” Joshua asked suddenly, his voice shaking a little. He cleared his throat. “You – you haven’t been apple-picking yet, right? New Englanders love that kind of thing too. I’ll borrow Seungcheol’s car and we can go, just the two of us. There’s a really nice place in Shelburne that has these amazing apple cider donuts. If you’re free, that is,” he added hastily.

Minghao tried to keep his excitement from flooding through in his voice. “I’m free,” he replied carefully.

“Sounds good, bro.” Minghao could hear the smile in Joshua’s voice. “It’s a date, then.” He turned around, hands in his pockets, and walked away, but not before taking a last, careful look at Minghao. His eyes twinkled, twin crescent-moons barely visible in the faint lamplight.

Minghao beamed into the darkness.


End file.
